The Fingertips Project: I Heard A Sound

A 3D sound spectrum analysis of a violin’s G String using the OscilloMeter program. x=the frequency of pitch, y=the volume, and z=time. Observe the peaks at the foreground. The other low points are background noise. The interesting thing is that the pitch that we hear is the peak at around 200h, but the other peaks are overtones that contribute to the sound, greatly outnumbering the original pitch. You can make out the overtone series for the note G. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“Would you go check that out?”

“Do I have to?”

“Why wouldn’t you check it?”

“I didn’t even hear anything, so I wouldn’t know what to check.”

“You didn’t hear that?”

“Nope.”

And that was how it started. It happened like that every night, a question about a sound, and then a mild exchange about not hearing it nor wanting to see the source of the noise. It never occurred to her to check it herself, though that was understandable — it was very difficult for her to get around, and she preferred to move as little as possible. On the other hand, he didn’t seem to even care about anything — even things which he DID claim to hear. And the surprising thing was that he didn’t seem to hear the sound, a deafening noise that came in a quick burst. Thankfully, only once per night, but at different times. But it didn’t seem like he was faking it, either — he’d never stirred or shuddered when it happened.

Clearly, he knew what was making it and when it was going to happen. The idea of such a loud noise coming from inside her head and so often was obviously not the case. She’d never heard anything from her head before; she never even had any situations — that she knew of, at any rate — where she’d even THOUGHT she’d heard her name called and turned around to see no one there. And she’d been bedridden for so long, it seemed unlikely that she’d begin to hear voices. Though she was bedridden, she had a constant stream of phone calls and visitors — nothing to make her feel lonely. If anything, she’d sometimes wished there were FEWER people who cared about her so much so she could have some time to herself.

But so it remained, the sound, the source of it, and the conspiracy involving her husband. She determined that he was probably trying to drive her mad, and it wouldn’t work. Angry, perhaps, but not mad.